


The Four Stooges

by NorthGalactic



Series: Porcelain Blue [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: But not everything can be doom and gloom lmao, Gen, I mean, Is this serious?, The obligatory Bad Sanses Act Like Children fic, its Canon insomuch as it happened in Porcelain Blue, not at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 06:20:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20403082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthGalactic/pseuds/NorthGalactic
Summary: Killer and Delft had the potential to get along. This isn’t that story.





	The Four Stooges

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted something lighthearted after the previous edition to this series! This isn’t meant to be taken too seriously, it’s more of a slice of life comedy than anything else, but I hope you enjoyyy!

Delft took a deep breath. Okay. This was fine. The height of immaturity, but fine. 

“Did someone purposefully flip the gravity in my room upside down?” Delft asked brightly after a quick glance around to make sure Nightmare wasn’t there to see him complain. 

Dust, losing badly to Horror in a game of UNO in the corner of the room, looked desperately relieved to have an excuse to swagger on over to Delft, smugly resting his elbow on Delft’s shoulder. 

“Aw, pal - I’m sure it isn’t too bad! You could have easily fixed it yourself, couldn’t you?” 

Delft’s mastery of gravity magic wasn’t absolute, and Dust knew it. Delft knew Dust knew it, and Dust knew that he knew Dust knew it. 

“I’m just asking,” He said sweetly. “It wouldn’t do to accuse the wrong person, you know?”

Horror, blatantly peaking at Dust’s cards since Dust wasn’t there to stop him, snickered quietly from his corner. Dust valiantly ignored the other skeleton, though he looked supremely annoyed at the card cheating. Delft quietly began to root for Horror in whatever weird matchup that was. 

“You know we can tell when your smile is fake since we’re all just different variations and could-have-been’s of each other, right?” Dust then asked, sounding mildly interested despite himself. 

Delft shrugged, turning a thousand watt smile on the older skeleton.

“Oh, SURE, I know that! But we all also know you’re kind of a bitch, except I don’t see anyone else pointing out the obvious, so, you know. Impasse and all that.”

“... Touché,” Dust said very quietly after a long pause. It was kind of unnerving since Delft was expecting a loud and violent denial, but gift horses and all that. Horror’s snickers grew into slightly louder chuckles. 

“... No yelling? Threats of stabbing or horrible maiming?” Delft questioned after a moment more, unable to resist. 

Dust shrugged.

“Nah. It would be like setting a Pomeranian on fire. Amusing for about a minute, but then the crying would get old pretty fast.” 

Pomeranians were CUTE and cute things didn’t deserve to be set on fire. Delft felt defensive on the behalf of every Pomeranian ever. Still-

“I’m at least a Golden Retriever,” Delft still argued, bizarrely offended by the comparison. Dust shrugged, looking even more at ease. 

“Sure, sure. Anyways, it was Killer who flipped your room.” 

That was enough to distract Delft, because he paused and didn’t even bat an eye at Dust moving his elbow higher on up to rest on his skull. 

“... Cool,” He finally said. Dust grinned, a sly expression that looked totally at ease on his only vaguely unhinged expression. Really, Dust was looking remarkably put together at the moment. 

“What’re you gonna do for revenge?” 

Delft shrugged, entirely from false-modesty. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t say I’m gonna do anything too much,” He lied. “I’m just going to flip Killer’s room, too.. but not with magic.” 

Dust looked incredibly interested at this, and even Horror looked up. 

“Then how ARE you going to do it?” 

“So,” Horror announced, his naturally hoarse voice going deep and grave, “I’m not going to say this is amazing... but it is pretty spectacular.” 

Delft grinned, wide and pleased and satisfied at the acknowledgement. 

“Thank you,” He said politely, before turning and sniffing judgmentally at Dust. 

“See? SOMEONE has taste around here.” 

“An acquired taste, more like,” Dust muttered sullenly. Delft shrugged,

“If you wanted to get the credit, you should’ve volunteered like Horror.”

“I was supervising! Being the look out!” 

“Being a bitch,” Delft added sweetly, and Dust sent him an aggrieved look for his trouble. 

“No, not being a bitch. I just didn’t want gorilla glue in my joints, okay?” 

“Why did you even have so much of it?” Horror interrupted before the argument could devolve further, sounding curious and poking at an upside down lamp. 

Like Killed had done to HIS room, Delft had flipped everything upside down. Unlike Killer, however, this wasn’t quite as reversible as simply fixing the gravity. Oh, no - that was far too simple for the humiliation caused by being forced to request Dust’s assistance. Instead, Delft had gone all out — with Horror’s and, admittedly, Dust’s help — and, very carefully, gone and physically stuck everything to the ceiling exactly as it had looked upon the floor with liberal helpings of gorilla glue. 

Killer’s bed frame was glued to the ceiling, his mattress was glued to the bed frame, his blankets glued to the bed... etcetera, etcetera. That was how it went for pretty much everything in Killer’s room. 

Honestly, there was nothing quite so satisfying as knowing Killer was in for an absolutely unpleasant surprise when he returned from wherever his murderous urges, or Nightmare, or both, were compelling him to go. 

The sound of Killer’s barely restrained shout of rage just two days later was music to Delft’s metaphorical ears. Truly, there was no sweeter sound in the Multiverse. 

The sound of Killer’s knife as it swung through the air in manic attempts at stabbing Delft were much less appreciated, but honestly? So worth it. So, SO worth it. 

“‘Sup,” greeted Horror.

“Hey,” Delft greeted, mildly proud it came across as fairly casual. It was pretty hard to remain so when they both had apparently jumped down laundry chutes, landing in the same pile. Horror looked as though this may be where he’d mysteriously spent the entire day, becoming one with the pile of clothes like a particularly lethargic slug. 

“... I accidentally spilled salt in Dust’s milk carton and never told him, and he just found out. What’s your deal?” Horror asked interestedly. Delft shrugged, 

“I’ve been avoiding Killer, and it was either the laundry chute or Killer’s knife, so. You know.” 

“Yeah,” Horror agreed. 

There was an awkward pause. 

“... Was Dust’s face at least worth it?” 

“GOD, yes.”

After this, the battle lines were clearly drawn. It was Dust and Killed against Horror and Delft.

Delft was forced to take refuge in Horror’s room after Dust hid rotten eggs EVERYWHERE, and Delft couldn’t find them all. Both Horror and Delft adamantly refused to acknowledge the wet, completely covered lump of... something... in the corner of Horror’s room that smelled vaguely of copper. Delft was pretty sure Horror had just thrown a large but tattered potato sack over the thing. If it sometimes moved and Horror was forced to kick it into submission, well, what happened in Horror’s room STAYED in Horror’s room. 

Delft hadn’t slept a wink since temporarily relocating to Horror’s room, but that was another matter entirely. 

(No it wasn’t, but Delft couldn’t fight a war on three fronts. He NEEDED this alliance.)

So, yeah. It was only a matter of time before things came to a screeching halt, and clearly, being a widely feared group of criminals (with the exception of Delft, who was still ridiculously new to all of this by the standards of beings who theoretically lived forever) they could all settle this rationally like the mature group of adults they were. 

Maturely settling this, as it would turn out, was cautiously arranging a meeting in the Neutral Land, otherwise known as the kitchen. Either things would end, or the castle would be destroyed. There could be no other way, clearly. 

“Killer,” Delft was the first one to speak from his half of the kitchen table. Horror had agreed to let him do all the talking. 

Killer, seated directly opposite of him, flashed his usual brand of unnerving smiles. 

Dust was squinting suspiciously at Horror, who in turn was smiling blandly back at him. It was a completely terrifying expression. 

“Target practice,” Killer greeted in return placidly. Delft wanted to punch him when both Dust and Horror snorted in unison. 

“Knife fucker,” He returned automatically, but then took a deep breath and counted to ten. 

“You’ve read our terms?” Delft prompted pointedly. Killer’s head tilted, grin becoming something sharper. 

“You mean your demands about a ceasefire being called in the event that we fix the bedrooms?” 

“I’m pretty sure you can do better than THAT, especially since you didn’t offer anything in return,” Dust interrupted, sounding peeved by this fact. 

Delft and Horror traded looks. Delft nodded. Sighing, Horror reached into his jacket and took out a small, thin little bottle. It had a picture of a dead rat on it. 

“Do you know what this is?” Horror asked, and Dust grimaced. 

“Rat poison?” He guessed, and Horror nodded. 

“Yes. Now, I think we all know this won’t kill us. But I think we can all also agree it would be very, very unpleasant were we to ingest this. Which is why I’ve put this rat poison into food that only I’m aware of in case it became clear that you intended to refuse our demands.” 

Both Dust and Killer looked infuriated by this turn of events.

“You poisoned the food?!” Killer demanded. 

“Poison is such a strong word-“ Delft started, but then he couldn’t continue with words because Killer had leapt across the table with an enraged shout in an attempt at strangling him, for once forgoing his usual choice of s knife. 

“Dude, seriously?” Dust asked, sounding incredibly fed up. Horror shrugged. 

“I was... annoyed by whoever ate my lunch yesterday. I had to improvise.” 

“... Well, it wasn’t ME-“

The door to the kitchen opened. The sight that greeted the dark skeleton as he stood there was Killer attempting to pummel Delft’s skull in, Delft elbowing Killer in the face, Horror appearing smug as can be, and Dust inching forward as if he was about to join in the brawl on the floor. 

Nightmare coughed, loudly, and everything froze. 

He looked around at the chaos. No one moved, not even to make themselves look more innocent, and not a word was spoken or sound was made. 

“Damn it,” the Harbinger of Darkness and Negativity sighed, sounding like a single parent coming home from a PTA conference only to find his obnoxious kids had set fire to the kitchen. 

“... So, I know this looks bad-“ Dust started to explain. 

Horror was officially in charge when Nightmare left from that point on, but Delft had to admit that this was probably a fair enough rule.


End file.
